Hot Knife
by lady of the wild things
Summary: "Nothing about my life makes sense. I've come to the conclusion that someone out there must have been incredibly bored." HIATUS
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: This is a disclaimer. I use it to disclaim things. The baby is MINE. That's basically it.  
**

**Hot Knife** | Prologue

The sun was setting over Shu Jing. A newlywed couple stood arm in arm, gazing up at the wooden sign that was posted above the entrance of the stables they'd seen in the tourism pamphlet.

**Lee's Carriage Rides**

_**Romantic rides through Shu Jing's beautiful countryside overlooking the waterfalls**_

**Just 5 Silver Pieces Per Ride**

Beneath the larger sign hung a smaller, battered one that read:

**Closed  
Business Hours: Midday – Fourth Hour Past**

"I _told_ you we should have been here earlier." The woman punched her companion in the arm; it was met with a yelp of pain.

"How was I supposed to know? The damned pamphlet didn't say when the stables close," he protested, rubbing at the sore spot. "That's going to bruise."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be a baby, Gan."

The man wrapped his other arm around his wife's waist, pulling her close and cringing at the sullen pout on her face. "I'm sorry if I ruined the evening for you, Fai. I don't want you to be unhappy during our honeymoon." He met her pout with one of his one; his lower lip wobbled as it protruded sadly.

A retching noise suddenly started up in the backdrop.

Fai's expression softened. "I'll let you make it up to me with a nice dinner. I hear they cook up a mean smoked sea slug at the place down the street," she suggested.

Her husband grinned gratefully. "It's our honeymoon. We'll feast on smoked sea slug _and_ roast duck tonight. And anything else your palate desires," he promised, with a quick peck to her lips.

She looked up at him in surprise. "I thought we were honeymooning on a budget."

Gan scratched his head sheepishly. His fingers inadvertently tipped the two-pronged headpiece out of alignment; it sat crookedly on his head "Ah, well, this was going to be a surprise, but…I've been promoted, Fai. You're looking at the new warden of the Boiling Rock."

Fai squealed and flung her arms around her husband's neck in delight. "Gan, that's wonderful!"

He beamed proudly. "Soon I'll be able to get you everything you've ever wanted," he declared.

"I'm happy just being married to you," she said happily, and then reeled her husband in for a kiss.

The retching noise was back.

Fai suddenly pulled away. "Do you hear that?"

"Huh," Gan said dumbly. "Nope, not a thing. Come back here, we're not finished yet." He reached for her again as the sounds of uncontrollable puking continued in the distance.

But his wife's attention had been captured by something else. "I heard something just now," she said, searching around them for the mysterious noise.

Gan sighed and reluctantly accepted that their public display of affection had come to a stop. He trailed after his wife. "Yeah, I heard something. Maybe there's a stomach bug going around the village."

"No, it's not that…" She stepped closer to the closed stables. "It sounds like crying."

He blinked. "What? I don't hear any—hey, wait! This place is closed, remember?" he called out after her, but the words were too little, too late. Fai had already walked around to the back of the structure, which left him with no choice but to follow. He heard her gasp, and arrived at the back of the stables just in time to see his wife lift a sheet of worn canvas from one of the many broken feeding troughs that littered the small yard behind the stables. "What is it, Fai?"

She dropped the canvas aside and reached into feeding trough for whatever was apparently inside it. It was then that Gan finally heard the thin wailing. He approached cautiously. "Is that…?"

Fai turned around with a bundle of what appeared to be withering cabbage leaves held together with twine. Gan stared.

"Look, Gan." She held up the bundle, turning it slightly so that he could see the tiny face that peered out from between the cabbage leaves.

He frowned. "Who would leave a baby in a stable?"

"People who don't deserve to have children of their own," she said angrily.

"No kidding." He gingerly poked the baby's cheek. This was met with a cranky burble from the offended party, as well as a slap on the hand from his wife. "You're a violent woman, Fai. So, what are we supposed to do with it?"

She was silent for a moment of contemplation. "What do you say to having a guest over for dinner, tonight?" she suggested.

Gan looked back at her, perplexed. Then realization sank in. "But it has parents. Shouldn't we be looking for them?"

"Clearly _she_ has been abandoned. We can't just leave her here to die." Fai's gaze, as she looked down at the infant, was full of pity and a motherly compassion that Gan had never noticed in her until that moment.

He sighed and draped his arm over her shoulders. "How do you know it's a girl?"

She smiled up at him. "Trust me, she's a girl," she answered.

"I definitely wasn't expecting to come out of this honeymoon with a _baby_," he said. "Let alone a daughter."

Fai's dark eyes sparked impishly. "Got a problem with girls, dearest?"

He startled. "No, of course not. I-I've always wanted kids! Yes. Nothing would make me happier than a boatload of children," he said quickly.

She stood on tiptoe to plant a peck on his cheek. "Good answer."

The newlyweds made their way back to the main street with the baby nestled safely in Fai's arms. A half hour later, when they were seated at the restaurant waiting to for their meal to be prepared, something occurred to Fai. "What will we name her?" she wondered aloud, as she rocked the baby in her arms. They had replaced the cabbage leaf wrapping with a thick towel provided by the restaurant staff.

Gan shrugged and took a swill of his milk tea. "We'll figure it out. But really, Fai, this can't be legal."

"We'll just have to act as if she's our own," she decided.

He glanced at the infant, noting her thin, rust-colored curls, tawny face, and grey eyes. "The family resemblance is uncanny," he remarked drily. "No one will ever suspect a thing."

She grimaced at him. "We'll say the genetics skipped a generation," she said. "But she still needs a name, that's for certain."

Gan took another drink from his glass, before setting it down with a light _clunk_. Then, it came to him. A stroke of creative genius! "I got it—Chai! We found her in Shu Jing, and they practically bathe in the stuff, here." He looked at his wife expectantly. "Ow!"

Fai pinched his nose. "Don't be ridiculous," she snapped. "We're not naming our daughter after a beverage."

His face contorted from pained to kicked-puppy-dog in seconds. Dry heaving could be heard somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen. "Why not? It's unique! You don't see anyone else in the Fire Nation named Chai," he said defensively.

"That's because it's a _beverage_."

"But—"

"Not going to happen."

/

**A/N: The warden of Boiling Rock is just a big old softy, ain't he? So, I gave him a name and a wife. And a baby wrapped in cabbage leaves. I am a generous author.**


	2. Chapter I

**Disclaimer: I am so not doing this for every single chapter.  
**

**Hot Knife** | Chapter I

"Chai!"

"I don't want to!"

The ten-year-old ducked her head away from the relentless onslaught of her mother's hairbrush. Her unkempt hair swept across her face like a coppery broom as she attempted to resist grooming, while finishing her breakfast.

Fai huffed in exasperation and gave up, lightly smacking her daughter on the back of the head, with the brush, instead. "Must you be so impossible, Chai?" she sighed. "You need to look your best on the first day of instruction at the Academy. First impressions are more important than you might think."

Chai drained her bowl of soup and belched, earning another smack on the head. "I don't care about first impressions or the stupid Academy," she groused, as she rubbed at the bump rising on her scalp. "I'm _not_ wearing my hair up and that's final."

Her mother treated her to a stern glare. "Who made you the parent in this family?" But it was clear that the girl would not submit to having her hair styled in time for school. "At least let me brush the knots out."

Chai set her bowl down and leaned back in the chair. "_Fine_. Do I really have to go to that stupid girls' school?"

"You should feel lucky that you qualify for enrollment at the Royal Fire Academy," her mother chided. "Not many girls in the nation have this opportunity, you know."

She rolled her eyes and swung her legs over the edge of her seat. "They can have my spot, then. School is boring."

"You'll never know unless you try," Fai said, as she dragged the brush through her daughter's long, tangled locks. "And you _will_ try."

"And if I don't like it?" Chai asked hopefully.

"Then we'll have no choice but to sell you to a traveling circus," Fai said lightly. "Ladies and gentlemen, behold the amazing lazy-boned girl! Her unparalleled slothfulness will astound you!"

"_Mom_," the amazing lazy-boned girl complained.

Her mother chuckled.

Chai turned her head to gaze out the window. "When is Dad coming home anyway?"

"You know he takes a leave of absence at the end of every month, Chai. That's a fortnight away."

"I know," she muttered. "_Dad_ wouldn't make me go to school."

Fai clucked her tongue in disapproval. "That man spoils you far too much."

Chai shrugged. "I'm okay with that." She then felt her scalp tighten and heard the sound of a ribbon being pulled into a knot. "Mom!"

The older woman stood back to admire her handiwork. "There," she said smugly. "All ready for your educational debut."

The girl scowled and folded her arms to her chest in discontentment. "This is not okay," she muttered.

/

The new clothes her mother had commissioned from the tailor made her back itch unbearably. The tunic pinched uncomfortably at her waist and upper arms, but her complaints had been dismissed with the reassurance that the ill fit was attributed to her baby fat, which—the way she made it sound—would magically melt away before Chai knew it. She honestly didn't care about that part, but the prickly fabric made her the most miserable girl at the academy on that first day of class.

She mumbled her way through the pledge of allegiance to the Fire Lord, and shifted restlessly in her seat for the duration of the day's lessons. The majority of the first day's instruction involved lectures on the history of the great Fire Nation and the Fire Lord's glorious campaign against the other nations. It bored her half to death.

They were granted a half hour break, during which they roamed the school grounds freely. Many of the girls had grown up alongside at least a couple of their peers, and the already small student population quickly divided into even smaller cliques. Chai had grown up closer to her parents than any of the nearby children in the Capital; it was only now at the Academy that she realized how isolated she was. She fidgeted in her scratchy, ill-fitting outfit, surveying the herds of girls, and decided to go off in search for a quiet corridor.

Only ten minutes of break remained by the time she unearthed the old garden behind the library. It was clear the closed off plot of land had been untended for years; weeds and flowers contended for space, and trees bent over the ground, their roots sprawled across the verdure. Through the iron fence, Chai's eyes lighted upon the rough bark that covered the tree trunks. _Now _that_ would make an excellent backscratcher_, she thought fervently.

She discovered that someone had already come along and picked the lock on the entrance; the thick chain dangled loosely from the latch. The hinges groaned as she entered the garden, and she carefully made her way over the gnarled roots. A flash of red caught her eye; there was something or someone crouched behind one of the trees.

Common sense told her that anything hiding out in an abandoned garden was probably not good news. She should backtrack now and exit the garden, close the gate behind her, and get back to her classroom before her stern-faced teachers could think up some undoubtedly unpleasant punishment for tardiness.

"Hello," she called out.

Silence.

She stepped closer to the tree that hid the red flash. "Are you a student? We're going to be late for class."

No response. She decided to go for a different tactic.

"_RAAAUGH!_"

"_Ahhh!_"

Chai had charged around the tree trunk, roaring at the top of her lungs. Her direct approach was met with a shout of alarm, which in turn startled her. An abrupt stillness commenced.

She stared.

The shouter stared back.

"You're not a girl!" she proclaimed, pointing an accusing finger.

The shouter was decidedly not a girl. It was a boy, and he wore a belted, black tunic vest over a high-collared crimson shirt that was trimmed in gold. He also looked angry.

"Of course I'm not a girl," he barked, face flushed. "I am the son of Fire Lord Ozai, heir to the throne, and your _prince_."

Chai scrutinized the boy, unimpressed by his outburst. "You're a _trespasser_," she corrected, "and you're not supposed to be here."

"Didn't I say I was the prince?" he snapped. "I can be anywhere I please, whenever I please. You should be showing some respect."

"Hey, I'm the poster girl for respect." She put her hands on her hips and glowered at him. "Maybe I should _respectfully_ inform the teachers that there's a boy wandering around in an all girls' school."

The boy blanched momentarily. Then he shook his head furiously, as if to scatter his apprehensions, and drew himself up to his full height—which wasn't much taller than hers—in an obvious effort to look imposing. "As your prince, I command you to not be stupid little tattletale!"

Chai hopped up onto a protuberant root and waggled her tongue at the mighty prince. "I'm stupid or little, _stupid_," she said.

"On second thought, you're not little at all. You're just a stupid, _tubby_ tattletale," he sneered. "Except I just commanded you not to be a tattletale, so that just makes you stupid and tubby."

"It's baby fat!" she protested, unconsciously tugging at her sleeves.

He scoffed. "Right."

She felt her cheeks heat up; she wrapped her arms around her midsection self-consciously. "Whatever! What are you doing at the Academy anyway, weirdo?"

"That is none of your business," the boy said, waving a hand dismissively. "Go away already."

Chai thought hard, hoping for a witty retort or scathing insult to put the rude boy in his place. If he was a prince, she could already be in some kind of trouble, but since he was sneaking around the Academy it was unlikely he could make an accusation that would stick without bringing his suspicious activities to light. She heard the faint sound of a gong in the distance; classes were about to begin and she was going to be late. But she couldn't just leave without getting a final word in.

The gong boomed a second time.

"Ugh." With that eloquent utterance, she darted forward and delivered a hard shove to the boy's chest. He landed on his bottom with an undignified _oof_.

Chai fled the garden. No sooner was she on the other side of the iron fence than she drew up short, narrowly avoiding a collision with a fellow classmate. The other girl was slender, with her jet black hair pinned up in buns on either side of her head; each bun was wrapped in red silk. Her youthful features were sharp, like a fox.

The girl looked at her and then at the gate behind her; when her gaze shifted back to Chai, it had hardened into an unfriendly frown. She looked as though she was about to say something—nothing nice if her unmasked hostility was any indication—but at that moment the gong sounded a third time.

Chai set off for her classroom at a record pace, pausing only once, to glance over her shoulder when she was yards away from the library. She saw the other girl enter the garden. _Don't tell me Prince Slug-face has a girlfriend_. The notion that the unpleasant boy could manage to get a girl to look at him twice, let alone woo one, baffled her.

"You, there, what are you doing outside of class!" someone shouted from her left; their tone promised harsh penalty if she was caught.

She shrugged off all thoughts revolving around the events that took place in the old garden, and sprinted off in the direction of her dreary classroom.

/

"How was your first day at the Academy?" Fai asked at dinner.

"I tried it," Chai answered, attacking her meal with enthusiasm, "and I didn't like it. Can I stay at home from now on?"

"Not a chance."

She made a face at her mother, who only smiled.

"We're still going to visit your aunt's home at the end of the school week," Fai reminded her. "So pack enough clothes for two nights. Don't forget the tunics and vest I bought you earlier this month."

As soon as Chai had arrived home, she'd torn the itchy new clothes from her body in favor of loose slacks and a light tunic. She had kicked at the discarded clothing in disgust; the ensemble trapped heat like a puma goat's fur. "There is no way I'm wearing those clothes ever again," she said, jabbing her chopsticks in the air for emphasis.

"Nonsense," her mother snorted. "They won't itch anymore once I've washed them."

Chai was unconvinced. "They make me look fat," she added.

Fai was unperturbed by this announcement. "Oh sweetie, that's just—"

"Baby fat," she finished. "Right. Sure."

Finally taking notice of her daughter's surly demeanor, Fai set her chopsticks down and leaned forward. "Did anything happen at the Academy, today?"

"No," Chai said flatly.

Her mother looked upon her with some concern. "I see."

After several minutes had passed in quiet dining, Chai spoke up. "Mom, who's the prince of the Fire Nation?"

She arched a brow at the girl. "Shouldn't you have learned that in class?"

The ten-year-old looked down at her glass of water, suddenly fascinated by its unfathomable depths. "I, eh, wasn't paying attention," she admitted.

Fai sighed. "Well, in answer to your question, after the death of Prince Lu Ten, at the hands of Earth Kingdom soldiers, as well as the previous Fire Lord's re-appointment of Prince Ozai as the new successor to the throne, Prince Ozai and Princess Ursa's son Zuko is now the heir to the throne."

"How old is he?"

"If I'm correct, he was born in the year 83."

"So, he's a year older," she muttered. The boy from the garden had looked to be around her age. Maybe he'd been telling the truth after all.

"Why the sudden interest in the royal family?" her mother wanted to know.

Chai picked at the roast duck on her plate. The memory of the boy's derisive face as he called her a 'stupid, tubby tattletale' flickered in her mind. Prince or not, he was a royal jerk. She scowled.

"No reason."

/

"Stupid…beastly…snooping...ugh!"

Zuko paced his bedchamber, fuming over the events of that afternoon.

He had gone to see Mai at the Academy more often since his mother's mysterious disappearance and his father's ascension to the throne in the wake of Fire Lord Azulon's passing. They didn't say much to one another when they hung out at the old garden, but it was a companionable silence.

The pair had crept around the palace to see each other since early childhood, but that had changed when Mai was enrolled in the Royal Academy and Zuko began instruction with royal tutors. They still saw each other in the palace, but never without Azula and Ty Lee close by. If the two girls ever sniffed out their secret friendship, he would never hear the end of it. And then one afternoon, Zuko gave his tutors the slip and went to the girls' school.

He had been the one to stumble upon the obscure location after the first time he snuck into the Academy; a small, gloomy box of ancient trees and thorny weeds that was fenced off from the rest of the Academy—it was the perfect secret meeting place. He told her about it in a note he'd discreetly passed to her when she and Ty Lee came over to play with Azula.

Mai loved the garden; he was confident of it, even though her outward reaction had been an apathetic shrug and a "whatever." He had seen her turn her head and smile, and he knew how rare it was to see a smile on the pretty girl's face. Her face had three modes of expression: smirks, grimaces, and expressionlessness. Seeing her smile was like witnessing Sozin's comet, pretty much a once in a lifetime event.

Everything had been fine between them. Until _she _came along.

The monstrous girl.

He shuddered at the memory of the tawny-faced girl who had come lunging at him around the tree behind which he had hoped to escape notice. What kind of girl runs around roaring at the top of her lungs? A monstrous one. But even more horrifying than the girl's unladylike behavior was that she'd pushed him. And he fell!

By the time he'd stood up, Mai had entered the garden and slapped him across the face for allowing someone else into _their_ hideout. He had wilted under her glare, and although he had tried to explain that the monstrous girl had just barged in uninvited, Mai was implacable. _If_ he managed to get back into her good graces, they would have to find another place to meet up or risk being discovered a second time. The monstrous girl had ruined _everything!_

"Don't tell me."

A chill shot down his spine and caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. He whirled around, dreading the mere sight of the person who was standing in the doorway.

"You've gone mad in addition to already being incompetent," Azula guessed. "Did I get it right?"

"Go away, Azula," Zuko growled.

Azula smirked. "Is that any way to speak to your sister, brother dearest?" she chided, her tone deceptively light. "I only came to tell you that Ty Lee and _Mai_ are over, in case you want to play together."

Several months back, Azula had decided to play a joke on Mai and her brother, already suspecting their fondness for each other. She had tricked them into playing a game that involved placing an apple on Mai's head and shooting it off with a blast of fire, and she had volunteered to demonstrate. The apple had caught fire, and in his attempt to knock it from her head, both Zuko and Mai had fallen into the fountain. Ever since that episode, his sister had made multiple attempts to catch them in compromising situations.

"I don't care," he snarled. "Get out of my room!"

Azula's smile was simply saccharine. She had accomplished what she'd come to do, strike a nerve in her brother's laughably fragile composure. "Of course, Zuzu." She exited the room in a nonchalant fashion that only served to further aggravate him.

When the door closed, Zuko hurled a cup at the thick panel of wood, wishing he'd had the nerve to do so when Azula had been standing there with her sickening grin. The glazed earthenware smashed against the door and clattered to the floor in pieces.

"Someone clean up this mess," Zuko shouted to get the attention of one of the many servants that were always drifting through the halls. He heard the panicked shuffle of feet and frowned. It wasn't the servants' fault his sister was stupid and Mai was angry at him. It was that monstrous girl's fault. It had to be.

Somehow, if their paths ever crossed again in the future, he would make her regret her insolence. That was a promise.

**A/N: Re-upload, yes. I needed Zuzu's interiority to make this chapter complete. Poor baby has no luck with the feminines.  
**

**Thanks to Rumpologist and Distant-Moon for the kind reviews. Also, to the Rumpologist: _I know who you are. I know of your deeds. I know where your dogs sleep._ But not the cat.  
**


	3. Chapter II

**A/N: In case no one understood the title's reference, "Hot Knife" is a song by the brilliant Fiona Apple.  
**

**Hot Knife** | Chapter II

Gan's sister and her family lived in a mansion of high, white stone walls over which enormous gabled roofs, painted in vibrant hues of scarlet and gold, cast a cool shade. Chai stood at the foot of the marble staircase that led up to the doors of her aunt's home. Although awestruck by the lavish digs, she wasn't entirely surprised. Lan had married into nobility, so it was more or less expected that they lived in the lap of luxury. Still, even with servants' quarters and guest chambers, she couldn't imagine a family of three living in a house that massive. It wasn't as if Chai and her parents lived in a hut; far from it, they inhabited a sizable property with a staff of five servants—though Fai always insisted on performing random chores on her own—and a small courtyard. The warden's family was well above middle-class, but in comparison to this opulent structure, they may as well have been living in a tent made of twigs.

"Come along, Chai," her mother beckoned as she ascended the steps.

She obeyed; her aunt's servants followed closely with their luggage in tow. Today, her attire was blissfully airy. Although her new tunics had been washed into submission as guaranteed, she had forgotten them at home much to the dismay of Fai who bemoaned the silver spent on the clothing.

"What is the point of buying new clothes for you when they never see the light of day?" Fai had scolded her in the carriage on their way to her aunt's home.

Miraculously enough, Chai found herself standing in front of her aunt's mansion with no regrets. Flowing slacks billowed around her sandals—she didn't care for the traditional knee-high boots that curved at the toe—in a curtain of charcoal-colored silk, over which she wore a long blouse. She had, nevertheless, conceded to having part of her hair pulled back into a braided knot.

According to her mother, her aunt had a daughter who happened to be the same age as Chai. "You are both children of the Dragon," her mother had often said with a fond smile. But she had only ever met her cousin when they were both still infants, and she had no memory of the occasion. According to Fai, they both attended the same Academy, but they weren't in the same class. She was understandably curious about her cousin, but she didn't necessarily look forward to their first meeting.

Chai had come to realize that she didn't like mingling with other children her age. By the end of her first week at the Academy, her observations of the girls there had led her to the conclusion that the majority of her peers were a petty bunch of gossips who enjoyed putting others down in order to boost their own self esteem. She had been called various names regarding her weight and skin tone, as well other physical attributes, all in the name of establishing social rank within the Academy. And though the taunting was less than welcome, she had no interest in the catty politics that ruled the Royal Fire Academy for Girls.

She had taken to hanging out in the abandoned garden where she had met the boy who'd claimed to be the crown prince. Since that fateful day, she hadn't seen hide or hair of the bad-tempered boy. Come to think of it, she hadn't seen the girl she'd run into outside the garden either. Although some curiosity lingered, she much preferred the peaceful solitude.

There would be none of that here. She would be expected to behave like a well-bred girl in front of her relatives and get along with her cousin during their two day visit. She envied her father. _He_ got to spend all day yelling at criminals.

Lan was a tall, sophisticated woman with kind yet faintly fretful features. The women greeted each other warmly, and then Fai prompted her to greet her aunt properly. She had shyly obliged, bowing her head as one should before one's elders. After pleasantries had been exchanged, her aunt led them to the courtyard where her own daughter was sitting beneath a tree.

Seated with her back to the trio, the girl was fiddling with an object that glinted in the sunlight. Upon hearing the older women and Chai draw near, she hastily tucked the object into her sleeve. She stood and turned to meet them, which gave Chai a good look at her narrow and very familiar face. She hadn't been surprised by the fancy house, but if a particularly frisky breeze had blown through the courtyard at that moment it would have knocked her off her feet.

Her cousin bent at the waist in a respectful bow. "Welcome to our home, honorable aunt and cousin," she said in perfect monotone, before straightening up and nodding politely to her. There was no indication that she recognized Chai.

Fai smiled. "You're growing up to become a beautiful young lady, Mai."

There was a brief quiet, which was remedied by Fai elbowing her daughter's shoulder and coughing lightly.

"It is an honor to meet you, cousin," Chai said quickly, as she tried to subtly gawk at her cousin.

"Come, Fai," Lan said, looping her arm through the crook of her sister-in-law's elbow. "Let us catch up over tea, while the girls become better acquainted."

Once the adults were out of sight, Mai plopped back onto the ground and returned to playing with the object that was hidden in her sleeve. Chai now identified the object as a silver blade roughly the size and width of a pencil.

She rocked back and forth on her heels, feeling the full weight of the awkward hush that had settled in the space between them. "I've seen you before, right?" she spoke up. "In front of the old garden behind the library. We almost ran into each other."

The blade flipped into the air and spun twice before dropping back down into the other girl's waiting fingers. "You're mistaken."

Chai was undeterred. "I know it was you," she insisted. "I'd recognize those pincushions anywhere." She twisted her hands in the air to demonstrate; it looked as though she were screwing invisible light bulbs into her head.

Apparently this did not merit any reply at all.

She let her arms drop with a sigh and surrendered herself to the grass. If the adults were to return this instant, they would find her sprawled over the ground beside Mai, like a discarded marionette. It would appall Fai. The notion brought a smile to her lips.

She yawned loudly and then stretched her arms up behind her head. "You have a nice house," she said conversationally.

The blade flipped up. It spun. It was caught.

"Knives are your thing, huh? That's cool. I mostly only use them for cutting bread or fruit but they're…you know. Shiny."

Flip. Spin. Catch.

"Have you ever stabbed someone? I guess not, since you'd probably be in prison. But maybe if you did, you'd get off the hook since your father's a noble. And I bet Dad could pull some strings if you ever got caught for stabbing someone. It would probably be better if you only stabbed them a couple of times instead of killing them. Because that would actually be a serious crime, like tax evasion or juggling babies."

Flip. Spin. Catch.

From the corner of her eye she noticed her cousin glance at her. It was a look one might reserve for the developmentally challenged. She took that look as encouragement to continue babbling.

"It was you in front of the garden, wasn't it? You were going to meet up with that boy. Is he really the son of the Fire Lord? I mean, he's kind of the jerk. Your boyfriend, not the Fire Lord. Although I guess that really depends on who you ask. Anyway, aren't boys supposed to have coot—" Her words caught in her throat as the gleam of metal flashed before her face.

/

The two women sat across from each other at a table overlooking the garden. A maidservant poured each of them a steaming cup from a teapot that had a dragon's head for a spout; its enamel scales shimmered indigo and it bared gilded teeth at the teacups. Fai noted its exquisite craftsmanship as her sister-in-law took a delicate sip of the fragrant jasmine tea.

"Tell me, Fai. How is my unruly brother doing as of late? Still a handful, I trust," Lan said knowingly.

She chuckled. "Well, that's a given. Nothing I can't handle, of course."

"You're too good to him," her sister-in-law scolded, but her eyes brimmed with mirth.

"Don't I know it," Fai sighed lightly. "Chai has picked up all his worst traits."

"Chai?" Surprise flickered across Lan's expression. "How is that possible?"

"I know. It's unexpected considering the circumstances of our family." She smiled at the other woman before gazing down at the steam drifting away from her tea. "You should see them together. Lumbering about the house and eating everything in sight, like two bears in a cave. If I didn't witness Gan setting sail for the Boiling Rock after every visit home, I'd swear they were joined at the hip."

"It's strange to think of Gan as a father." Lan's brow wrinkled as she attempted to mentally visualize her brother as a family man. "It seems only yesterday he was rolling around in the mud, wrestling with his silly friends."

"He still does that, except now it's with Chai," Fai said drily. The women shared a quiet laugh.

"Speaking of Chai…have you and Gan told her yet?"

Somberness clouded the warmth in her amber eyes. "No," she said. "We feel it might be best to wait until she's older."

Lan's expression was full of sympathy. "There would appear to be no good time for such matters," she said gently.

"I know it's important for Chai to know the truth, but as selfish as it may seem, I'm worried that she'll start looking at me with different eyes," Fai admitted. "As a woman who found her behind a stable and raised her out of pity or whatever other reason. I'm her mother, Lan."

"Of course you are," Lan assured her. "I'm of the belief that no matter when you decide to tell her the truth, she will always know you and Gan as her parents."

She gazed out at the fiery blooms sprinkled throughout the gardens; Lan was very particular about her flowers. "I wish I shared your confidence," she said before looking back to her sister and friend. "But enough about this. How is your husband?"

Lan smiled ruefully. "I strive to be a supportive wife, but sharing a marriage bed with his political aspirations can be a lonesome affair," she said. "And although Mai was raised to be a dutiful and obedient child, I can see that it wears on her at times."

It was Fai's turn to be the sympathetic ear. "With the war going on, in addition to your husband's duties to the Fire Lord, have the two of you been able to…?"

Lan nodded. "We're still trying for a second, though there's hardly time, as you well know."

"At least your husband isn't away at a godforsaken rock for all save a few days of every month," Fai said wistfully.

"Eito may be around in the flesh, but his mind is always taking off with his career. After a decade, Gan still goes hopelessly over the moon every time he sees you."

Bitterness seeped from the pauses in their conversation, and they floundered for a minute, each woman distracted by her own burdens to bear. Fai was the first to break free.

"Perhaps you'll have a boy, this time."

Lan absently traced a painted nail over the rim of her cup, following the circle again and again. "That would be nice," she murmured. "Yes, perhaps."

/

Mai stared at Chai. Chai stared at the knife that was embedded in the ground just inches from her nose. Mai watched the girl roll onto her side and tug the blade loose before looking up.

"You dropped your knife," Chai said, sitting up and holding out the blade handle-first. She sat there looking at Mai with a stupid expression on her face; though to be fair Mai thought most facial expressions were stupid.

She stood and leaned forward to take the knife from Chai, and then wiped it on her tunic. Instead of returning to her original seat, she walked around the tree until her back was to the other girl before sitting back down. She heard a soft _whumph_ and construed that the girl had flopped back onto the grass. Blessed silence washed over the courtyard.

Of course, it couldn't last.

"Sorry I made fun of your boyfriend, but he did make fun of me first," Chai said. "He called me a stupid, tubby tattletale. I've never tattled in my life! Except for this one time, but it doesn't count. Dad hid Mom's favorite slippers and she was threatening to fire the cook so we'd all starve to death. So, really, I only tattled for the greater good."

Mai rolled her eyes and spun her knife on the tips of her fingers. _Does she ever stop talking?_ Maybe if she pretended to be unaware of the noise monster's existence, it would just magically vanish. Hope springs eternal.

"I probably wouldn't be able to stop you if you really wanted to stab me, but my dad probably wouldn't be too happy about it. It's Mom you really have to watch out for, though. Fair warning: the woman is like a rage dragon if you ever manage to get her ticked off."

She considered stabbing her own eardrums. Being deaf probably wouldn't be so bad; she might even come to like it. It occurred to her that these weren't normal thoughts for a noble's daughter let alone a child of ten years. Her mother would be mortified if she'd spoken the words aloud. The mere thought of it summoned a faint smile to her lips.

Several minutes passed before Chai spoke again. "You're kind of the strong and silent type, huh? I get the appeal." Before she could say any more on the subject, Mai exhaled loudly and got to her feet. She stepped around the tree to look down at the girl who lolled about in the shade. Chai returned her gaze with startling grey-blue eyes; they reminded her of the water in the koi pond when it reflected an overcast sky.

"You talk too much," she said.

Chai grinned up at her before closing her eyes with a slight shrug. "I know, right?"

"You don't even look like them."

"Hm?"

"Your parents. Don't tell me you can actually _see_ the family resemblance."

Another shrug. "Genes skipped a generation."

"Uncle and Aunt Fai brought you with them, when they returned to the Capital from their honeymoon,"—the blade twirled between Mai's fingers—"which means she had to be nine months pregnant when they got married, but she clearly wasn't pregnant at the wedding."

Chai cracked an eye open to look at her cousin. "How do you know all this? You were only a baby."

"Servants like to gossip about old news."

"I never knew you were so well-informed, cousin."

Her fingers ceased their blurred spectacle, with the blade of the knife caught firmly between her thumb and forefinger. "We aren't cousins," she said flatly. The words were devoid of any traces of malicious intent, as though she were only telling the other girl a simple fact.

The other eye opened to join the first, and together they gazed at Mai. A moment of unpredictability passed between the two girls, and fled as a muffled rumble trickled through the stillness.

Chai sprang to her feet with all the grace of a well-fed housecat. It was apparently feeding time, as indicated by the way she sadly poked at her stomach. "I'm going to go see if it's time for supper," she announced. "I'll probably get lost. Wish me luck, cousin!"

Mai had neither the time nor inclination to correct her; the girl had already bounded off through a row of hedges. True to her prophecy, she had wandered off in the exact opposite direction of where their mothers had gone. If the odds were in Mai's favor, she wouldn't find her way back to the courtyard anytime soon.

She felt no remorse regarding what she had told Chai. It was, after all, the truth. If feelings were hurt in the process, it was none of her concern. She leaned back against the tree and slid down to a seated position with a sigh of contentment. Mission accomplished.

/

Later that night, Fai had her daughter sit down in front of the vanity in their guest chamber in order to brush out the hair that had been constricted in a knot all day. Lan would have gladly prepared separate rooms for their stay, but Fai had dissuaded her.

Chai squinted at her reflection in the mirror. Her usually wavy hair had been molded into a mass of curls by the tight braid. "Why do you have to brush my hair? It's not like we're going somewhere."

"It's so you don't wake up with your hair tangled into one giant knot. If that happened, we'd have to hack it all off," she teased.

"That might not be so bad, actually," Chai said.

Fai frowned. "But you love your long hair."

The girl giggled. "I know. So, do I get my hair color from you or Dad?"

Her hand stilled for a second, and then resumed pulling the brush through the dark sorrel mane. "I'm not entirely sure," she said, trying to maintain a neutral tone. "Maybe it skipped a generation."

Chai nodded. "Yeah, I thought so. That's what I told Mai."

Dread settled over Fai's shoulders in an icy blanket. "Did she ask you about your hair?"

"Not exactly, she just said I don't look like either of you," she replied.

"Oh, well," Fai attacked a particularly stubborn knot with the brush, "not all children resemble their parents, Chai."

"That's true. Then she told me that I was born on your honeymoon or someth—_ow!_ Mom, stop!" Her hand shot up to grab the hairbrush.

Fai dropped the brush upon realizing that the knot had come undone a while ago, and the bristles had started digging too roughly into Chai's scalp. "I'm sorry, dear," she exclaimed, and frantically smoothed her fingertips over her daughter's small head to assuage the hurt.

A knock came at the door, accompanied by a servant who had come to inform the pair that a hot bath had been drawn, should they wish to take one. After the servant was dismissed, she told Chai to go ahead and get in the bath first, she would soon follow. Once she was alone in the room, she went to the door to get the attention of one of the other servants. The maidservant who received her request hastened off down the candlelit corridor, and Fai went to the writing desk in order to draft a letter.

A messenger hawk took flight from the mansion that night, cutting through the soft moonlight with heavy purpose.

/

**Yet Another A/N:**

**See, Mai and Chai aren't so different (aside from pretty much being polar opposites). They both like to exasperate their mothers. That's something.**

**If there was any confusion at all, Chai is pronounced [CHY] not [CHAY], and Fai is pronounced [FY].  
**

**Gan's lovely sister Lan (huzzah, rhyming!) and her husband Eito, everybody! I'm giving out names all over the place.  
**

**Thanks to sunflower13, blahblahmarroki, and Rumpologist (my ailuromantic creeper soulmate) for the reviews.**


	4. Chapter III

**A/N: In which Chai refers to things that canonically shouldn't exist in _ATLA_ world. Also, ****I did not review/edit this chapter at all before posting, so...yay!**  


**Hot Knife** | Chapter III

Chai plucked a berry from her fruit tart and popped it into her mouth. "I mean, both are pretty difficult to train apparently, but the eel hound is super fast on water _and_ land, whereas the flying fish-opotamus doesn't have legs so it's only useful for water travel. I guess you can try to get them to slither? Or bounce, maybe, since they look more like giant purple beach balls than snakes." She shrugged and bit into the tart. "But what I really want is a dragon moose."

"Wow, it's like you're a talking textbook." Contrary to her word choice, Mai looked anything but fascinated by the other girl's oral dissertation on riding animals. She nibbled daintily at her own fruit tart as Chai scarfed down one after another without pausing for air between bites.

She did, however, pause long enough to talk Mai's ears off throughout breakfast. After her mom nearly brushed her head off her shoulders during her mini freak-out, the night before, she realized that what her cousin had told her was not mere servants' gossip. Although she was curious about what had rattled her normally imperturbable mother, seeing her in that state was unsettling to the point where she had no desire to witness it ever again.

Chai was well aware of her tendency to rabbit on; it stemmed from a handful of reasons: a defense mechanism, a method of filling awkward silences, the habit of talking to herself after growing up as an only child, and that she simply thought her own voice sounded so darn clever. But there was one other purpose for her rambling—attack. She used it against the girls who called her names at the Academy; just a couple of minutes listening to her prattle on about the virtues of tea or the elephant mandrill's natural habitat could drive her peers straight into the loving embrace of a straitjacket. No one suspected that she could be doing it intentionally and everyone within hearing range suffered.

Something about what Mai had told her had upset her mother, and that was enough to spark her vengeful streak into action. Chai had gathered from their first meeting that the other girl had an aversion to noise and excessive chatter. Her cousin was conveniently obligated to be on her best behavior in the company of adults, which meant she could neither toss her shiny little knives at her nor excuse herself from the table. She was a sitting turtle duck.

"…they're actually faster than people think, except no one really knows since they're hitched to carriages all the live long day. Someone really needs to call in the ASPCA on this."

"Chai, refrain from using nonexistent words. You'll confuse Mai," Fai admonished.

Lan smiled. "What shall we do, today?" she said to Fai. "Perhaps we can take the girls shopping. It's so lovely out."

"Well, I don't see the point of taking this one along." She tipped her head at Chai. "Since she makes a point of not wearing any of the new clothes I buy her."

Chai made a face at her mother.

"Still, there are all sorts of shops in town the girls would love," Lan said.

Mai set the half-eaten tart down on her plate. "I can't go, Mom. Ty Lee is coming over this afternoon, remember?"

"How about you, Chai? Auntie Lan will buy you something pretty to wear."

She balked at the idea of walking all over town for yet another scratchy set of robes or accessories that would only get lost within the week. "I…I'll stay here with Mai!" she blurted out. "She told me she wants to meet Ty Rhee. Lee. She says, uh, that Ty _Lee_ and I have a lot in common. According to Mai. Ty Lee and I are practically twins! That is what Mai said."

Fai looked at her daughter with raised eyebrows that clearly stated her skepticism, but she said nothing.

Lan seemed disappointed, but her expression brightened in the next moment. "Well, in that case, Fai and I will go out shopping and bring something back for you girls."

"Mai and Ty Lee and I are going to have the best time," Chai said cheerfully. "Aren't we, cousin?"

The other girl's face had turned sour around the edges; she picked up the dessert fork and used it to spear the fruit tart.

"The best."

/

"Chai. _Chai_. Chaw-yee. Chai-chai!"

This had been going on for quite some time now. Mai's subtle smirk did not go unnoticed by Chai, who simply stared at the newcomer who, upon arriving, had proceeded to reiterate her name into a high-pitched garble.

Ty Lee was not the gloomy, knife-toting Mai-clone she had expected, but be that as it may she was far from Chai's twin. The pretty brunette was bubbly, athletic, and so blindingly _pink_. Chai wasn't sure she was capable of forming a coherent sentence.

"Chai…isn't that a drink?" Ty Lee asked.

"It means 'scorpion,' actually," Chai corrected. She drew the character in the air with her finger, but the pink girl's attention had already moved on to her other attributes.

"Your eyes are like, really blue, except greyish-blue." She leaned forward until her nose poked the surface of Chai's personal space bubble. It popped. "Pretty…"

"Um." She took a step back, but escape was no longer an option.

Ty Lee bounded forward and picked up a handful of the hair that hung wildly about her elbows. "Your hair is all shiny and red," she exclaimed, and then gently poked Chai's cheek. "And your skin looks like milk tea! As in brown but not really. Maybe that's why your name is Chai, get it?"

She did not get it.

"Do you like tea, Chai-chai?"

"I—"

"I really like orchid tea. And lily! What's your favorite flower?"

"Noth—"

"You remind me of blood poppies!" Ty Lee beamed at her expectantly.

"Thank…you…"

"Let's go inside," Mai suggested to the pink girl. "The sun is annoying."

Ty Lee continued to talk animatedly as they made their way up the stairs, but Chai was grateful to no longer be the focus of her natter. "So, Azula is, like, busy with her fancy firebending lessons, so she couldn't make it," she told Mai with a pout.

Mai shrugged; she was playing with one of her thin blades again. "It's not like we were expecting her."

"I know, but still." Ty Lee fell silent. "Oh! We can go visit her later. Who knows, she might take a break or something. And you'll get to see _Zuko_." She flashed a meaningful smile at her.

Chai's ears perked. _Zuko. Why does that name sound so familiar?_

Mai balanced the point of the knife on her fingertip, staring intently at the flat steel for a while before speaking. "I've got a fun idea."

Ty Lee cheered at the mention of fun, and began to bounce excitedly on her toes. Chai, on the other hand, sent a doubtful glance in her cousin's direction. After only a day of getting to know her, she had already gathered that anything involving Mai and Mai's idea of fun would lead to the sort of trouble her mom had warned her to steer clear of. However, the mere notion of trouble resulted in her misgivings dissolving as abruptly as they'd appeared. An impish grin stole over her face.

"Let's hear it," she said.

/

"I don't know if this is such a good idea, Mai," Ty Lee said, once they were in front of the palace.

The three girls gazed up at the colossal structure that stood before them; each girl wore a different expression on her face. Ty Lee's doe eyes were full of anxiety, while Mai donned her trademark neutrality. Chai was awestruck by the palace that easily dwarfed her cousin's mansion five times over.

"You didn't tell me Azula is the princess of the Fire Nation," she said.

Mai's bland features briefly flared with exasperation. "Do you live under a rock? No, wait. Even hermits know the names of the members of the royal family."

"Yeah, Chai-chai, it's kinda weird that you didn't know," Ty Lee chimed in.

She shrugged shamelessly. "I don't pay attention when people tell me things. Remind me again why we're here?"

"'Cause of these things." Ty Lee held up the two metal pails they'd brought along on their little field trip. Each pail was stuffed to the brim with brightly colored balloons that jiggled with pond water. "Mai wants to play a prank on Azula and Zuko, which is total suicide."

Her brow crinkled at the implications of the other girl's wording. "Is Zuko an uber-protective brother or something?"

The other girl looked perplexed. "An oobuhwha…?"

"Is he scary?"

Ty Lee snorted at that. "Who, Zuko? It's Azula you have to watch out for. She'll, like, kill us all just because."

_Oh. Well. If that's all._ "And we're going on this kamikaze trip, why?"

"Comma cozy?"

"Will you stop making up random words?" Mai took a pail from Ty Lee and started for the guarded palace entrance.

"Sir, yes, sir," Chai muttered, taking the other pail from Ty Lee and following suit. The pail-free pink girl skipped happily after them, forgetting that they were all embarking on a suicide mission.

"The princess is expecting us, so there's no need to announce our arrival," Mai told the guard standing to the right of the entrance. The guard cast suspicious glances at their watery cargo, but they were granted admission.

Once inside the palace walls, they questioned a maidservant who informed them that the princess was deep into her lessons and would not be available until evening. Ty Lee's relief—which was demonstrated in a flood of excited chatter—led Chai to the conclusion that they'd just narrowly escaped a terrible fate. Even Mai didn't look too broken up over their foiled plan to bombard the princess with a bucketful of water balloons. Before scurrying off to her duties, the maid disclosed that the prince, however, would be free for the entire afternoon and that he was last seen near the armory. The trio set off through the palace with new and less perilous purpose.

Chai quickly found herself out of breath as she struggled to keep up with the other girls who were clearly better acquainted with the twists and turns of the palace's labyrinthine architecture. They were also more athletic, especially Ty Lee who would casually break into cartwheels and acrobatic flips before resuming a normal walk as though she hadn't just effortlessly performed gymnastic feats without breaking a sweat. Chai would have been envious if she hadn't accepted long ago that indolence was her predominant trait.

"You know, since you're new and all, maybe you should go first," Ty Lee piped up.

She gave the girl a blank look. "What?"

"As in you get to throw the first round of balloons," she clarified. "We're almost there, by the way."

She looked at Mai uncertainly. "Is she serious? You want me to chuck water balloons at the prince of the Fire Nation."

Her cousin shrugged. "You are new," she said innocently.

Chai sighed. "Right. The beloved, age-old hazing ritual."

"What's hazing, Mai?"

"Who knows. We're here." She pointed to the turn coming up just twenty feet ahead of them.

_Yes, this is possibly the dumbest thing you've ever agreed to. Just do it, okay?_ Chai told herself as she gripped the pail tightly, hoisting it up in preparation. The candles lining the corridor cast shadows around them, and she noticed the shadow of a fourth person advancing from the perpendicular hall. It had to be the prince. Either that or it was some poor servant waiting to be ambushed by three little girls. A flicker of pity lit under the staggering urge to attack someone with her ammunition of water balloons, but it was too late to turn back.

She dashed around the corner and blindly flung the balloons, bucket and all, at the unfortunate soul who was walking toward them, unaware of their watery fate.

/

Zuko had spent the entire morning training alone. Master Piandao had decided to take a holiday and he'd left his destination unnamed. The Fire Lord considered the art of the sword to be inferior to the range of firebending and berated him for spending too much time training with the dao swords. Azula was all too eager to bring up the precious hours he spent training outside of his lessons with Master Piandao, and so it came as a rare opportunity when his sister's day had been stacked with lessons, which would prevent her from spying on him for several hours at least. He could practice his dual swordsmanship in unadulterated solitude.

By mid-afternoon he emerged from his training and went to the armory to put the practice blades away before calling a servant to draw a bath. He left the armory with a towel perched on his shoulders and a sense of accomplishment that could only be earned through hours of backbreaking physical exertion.

He strolled down the corridor, humming a tune he'd once heard his uncle play on the tsungi horn. His daydreams of the hot bath that awaited him were interrupted by the sound of footsteps and muffled voices drifting down from the other hall. It was probably a group of servant girls talking amongst themselves, but then he heard a familiar voice. _Mai?_

His pace quickened and he was just moments from turning the corner when—_SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SPLOOSH_.

He yelled in alarm as a barrage of unidentified objects hit him in the face and chest. Whatever they were, they were soft and yet stung upon impact and exploded into a deluge of water that smelled faintly of fish. A rainbow of color flooded his vision and something rubbery clung to his skin as the water washed over him. An attempt to leap back resulted in him slipping on the water that dripped to the floor and landing on his bottom with an undignified thud. Something metal hit him square in the forehead and bounced off, clattering to the floor beside him.

"What is the meaning of this!" he sputtered the moment his wits recovered from the shocking offense.

"Hey, you really got him!" he heard someone say. The voice unmistakably belonged to Ty Lee.

Zuko stiffened. Wherever the perky pink girl was, Azula couldn't be far off. He knew the peace couldn't last forever, but he'd hoped that his sister would be preoccupied for at least another couple of hours.

He swiped a hand across his face, scattering the colorful bits of the water balloons, and looked up into the eyes of the enemy. But it wasn't Azula or even Ty Lee.

"You!"

Chai gaped at her victim. It was none other than the jerk-faced brat who'd called her names in the old garden at the Academy. _Oh…you've got to be kidding me._

"You've got to be kidding me," she blurted out. "You mean _you're_ the prince?"

"You," Zuko repeated stupidly. "You just threw water balloons at me."

She placed her hands on her hips and glared down at him. "Well, you definitely deserved it."

"You _pushed_ me."

"You deserved that, too."

Zuko scrambled to his feet and jabbed a finger at her. "You monstrous girl," he shouted. "How did you get into the palace?!"

"Your _girlfriend_ let me in," she said disdainfully.

He looked over her shoulder at the giggling duet that stood with their shoulders shaking merrily in the lambent candlelight. It was with a sudden shock that he realized he'd never seen Mai laugh so hard. She'd smiled and even snickered at times, but he was now witness to poorly concealed guffaws from the normally reserved girl. It made him realize something important…he must look incredibly stupid right now.

"I'll have you punished for trespassing," he barked, cheeks flushed red and water trickling from his clothes and hair. This was not the bath he'd had in mind.

"Um, news flash: I'm a _guest_ of your _sister's_ best friends," Chai said slowly. "And from what I hear, your sister is the head honcho around these parts. You have no say in the matter, your royal drippiness." She spun on her heel and was prepared to leave him in her triumphant prankster dust when she heard him mutter something under his breath.

"Tubby monster."

Zuko was on the floor before he could blink. His first thought was that his tailbone was probably bruised beyond the ability to sit down comfortably for the next few days. His line of vision filled with the arctic hue of a pair of eyes that flashed with ferocity. An angry expletive caught in his throat and expired, never to be voiced. For an odd moment he imagined seeing a crimson gleam in those grey-blue eyes, but it was only a reflection of the red décor that surrounded them.

"Never," Chai growled, bending at the waist to poke him in the chest, "_ever_ call a girl tubby. Or anyone for that matter. Not even if they are tubby!"

At this point, the other two girls had ceased their merriment and were watching her with a mixture of curiosity and unease.

"You are butt-brain," she shouted at the stunned boy. "You have big fleshy butts all over your mind!"

Everyone stared mutely at her ridiculous outburst, but she was too far gone to stop.

"And they fart giant clouds of smelly butt gas, and your tiny brain absorbs all of it like a sponge, and then every time you try to think a thought that isn't completely stupid all that it squeezes out is farts! From the butts that grow all over your brain."

In an unprecedented show of maturity it was Ty Lee who slipped her arm around Chai's, and tugged gently. "Maybe we should go," she suggested softly, as though she were a hiker attempting to soothe a startled bear.

Chai seemed to realize where she was and whom she had just attacked and berated. One look at the prince's face made her want to slug him hard, but it was a smart time to leave and she knew it. "Yeah," she said, her eyes still riveted on Zuko's face. He gawked back at her, clearly outraged but too dumbfounded to do anything about it. "We can go now."

Mai lingered behind as the girls retreated from the corridor. "That's my cousin," she told Zuko who had yet to utter a single word. "And you did deserve it." Then she smiled at him, this time without spite or ill-intent, and tossed something at him. Red silk flopped over his face. When he pulled the handkerchief away from his face, she was gone.

/

"I can't believe you called the prince of the Fire Nation a butt-brain," Ty Lee cackled, still somehow managing to sound girlish instead of crone-like. "The look on his face was priceless!"

They had arrived back at Mai's house and stood in front of the gates, discussing their successful prank. The showdown between Chai and Zuko had left the second pail of water balloons unused, and the girls spent the short walk tossing them at random. This time around their victims were mostly rocks and roadside weeds.

"Once I get worked up, it's almost impossible to get me to stop," Chai said sheepishly. She ran her hands through her hair before stretching her arms back overhead, and yawned loudly. The afternoon's shenanigans had drained most of her energy, leaving her shoulders hunched and eyelids heavy.

"Tell me about it," Mai remarked. "Or don't, actually."

"You didn't tell me your boyfriend really is the prince," Chai said. "I still don't get why you like him." She was too exhausted to even flinch at her cousin's evil eye.

"He's not my boyfriend."

"What are you talking about?" Ty Lee exclaimed; she turned to Chai. "They're totally sweethearts. It's _so_ cute." She bent over backwards with a panicked squeak as a blade shot through the space her face had occupied less than a second ago. "Time to go," she said hastily. "It was sparkly to meet you, Chai-chai!"

Fai and Lan came up the road as Ty Lee turned to leave, and exchanged greetings with the girl before sending her on her way. The other two girls waited for their mothers to reach the gates.

"Did you girls have a nice time?" Lan called out, once they were within earshot.

The girls bobbed their heads in affirmation.

"Did you discover you have much in common with your long lost twin?" Fai asked her daughter, eyebrow quirked.

"She's..." Chai searched for the proper word. "Sparkly."

Her mother smiled and patted her hair. "I'm sure she was."

Lan did the same with Mai, whose lips thinned into a discontented grimace. She didn't notice. "Did you girls behave yourselves?"

Chai froze and looked at her cousin; their gazes met in a silent interchange.

"We went down to the river and picked flowers," Mai said.

Lan glanced at the girls' empty hands. "I don't see flowers," she noted, puzzled.

"We, uh, we put them down when we stopped to take a break on our way back," Chai supplied. "And then we accidentally forgot to pick them back up. Right, Mai?"

Fai gave her daughter a look. The 'I know you're full of it' look.

"Right," Mai said. "We forgot them."

"Well, that's a shame," Lan said sympathetically. "But you'll cheer up when you see the goodies we found at the shops!" She rummaged through her shopping basket and produced a pearl and silver hairpin; she tucked the pin behind one of Mai's hair bun and stood back, clapping her hands in delight. "Perfect."

"Very lovely," Fai told her niece.

It seemed to Chai that her cousin didn't look particularly thrilled at the gift, and was worried that she would receive something similar from her own mother. "What did you get me for me, Mom?" she asked.

She held the basket away from the girl's reach. "You'll find out later."

"I'd better go check on dinner," Lan said, starting for the house. Her sister-in-law fell into step beside her, and they chatted about what produce was currently in season. The girls followed close behind.

"So, today was fun," Chai said quietly. "Good idea, cousin."

Mai gave her an odd look. "I told you we're not cousins."

"I remember," she replied. "But I feel like we're cousins."

The other girl said nothing.

"Did you have fun?" she asked.

Still nothing. She sighed internally as they crossed the curtilage and went up the staircase.

"You still talk too much."

She swiveled her head around to look at Mai who looked straight ahead. Another minute passed in silence, but she grinned the whole time.

"I know, right?"

They glanced at each other and looked away in the same moment. A sense of déjà vu hovered over them, bringing them back to the previous day when they first met. The atmosphere was different now, less rocky if not entirely congenial. It was highly unlikely that they would close the evening with braiding each other's hair and trading gossip, but Chai had expected that and she was more than okay with the way things were now. Tolerable. That was the word for it.

"So, did you check out Ty Lee with that crazy dodge? It was totally Matrix."

"I'm just going to ignore you whenever you start talking nonsense. Or just whenever."

"Come on, it was pretty schway. I couldn't have dodged that in a million years."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"What happened to your knife anyway?"

"Who cares."

/

Chai and her mother set out early the next morning, their carriage loaded with fresh fruits and pastries that they had accepted upon her aunt's insistence. She realized somewhere along the return trip that she still hadn't received the gift she'd been promised the other afternoon, but she decided against bringing it up. Once it was just her and Fai in the carriage, the mood had turned strangely still; it was unlike the usual banter or comfortable silence they traveled to.

A familiar figure stood outside the house to greet them when the carriage pulled up. She noticed the individual as she stepped down from the carriage and nearly tripped into the dirt as she gaped in disbelief.

_No way. It's a whole week early_. _Oh, whatever_.

She whooped and broke into a run.

"Dad!"

/

**A/N: Thanks to Rumpologist, ElizaBethJacksonPotter, sunflower13, and xXRosexScorpiusXx for the reviews.**

**To address the plothole of Chai's only child status, there was an earlier draft that didn't work out and so I left it open ended. There will probably be many plotholes as the story progresses. Sometimes weird things happen and no one addresses them. Just something to look forward to.**

**P.S. Rumpologist: Cat Zumba is a go. Let me get my afro wig and pajama-suit ready. Also, bearsbearsbears.  
**


	5. Chapter IV

**A/N: I know the writing in the last few chapters has been pretty bad. I wasn't really invested in writing about a bunch of ten-year-olds (and eleven-year-old Zuko). But I feel like the writing in this chapter is less bad, because I'm less annoyed with the plot now. Actually the writing's probably worse. In fact, it's all downhill from here. Enjoy!**

**Hot Knife** | Chapter IV

It was all very dramatic. Chai's father had arrived home early in the afternoon a full week ahead of schedule. The conversation at brunch was strangely scarce, and her parents spent most of the meal exchanging identical looks of concern. Chai wasn't sure whether she preferred this to the customarily nauseating love-fest that traditionally commenced whenever her dad came home on his monthly leave of absence. The silence didn't bode well, that much was certain. And so, she took it upon herself to alleviate the tension. But how?

She spied a bowl of small, round fruit at the corner of the dinner table. Inspiration struck. "Have you ever realized that lychee fruit are like eyeballs encased in dinosaur skin?" She plucked one from the bowl and proudly held it out to her aunt and uncle as irrefutable proof of her observation.

The adults looked at each other.

"Chai, that's a leechi nut," Fai corrected her.

Discouraged, Chai sullenly peeled the reddish husk from the fruit, allowing the pieces to fall to the table. She held up the naked fruit, determined to succeed in creating a moment of gaiety. "But _look_—the _inside_ of the fruit is whitish like an eyeball, but more semi-transparent like…like a polar-bear dog's fur! 'Cause you know, their hairs aren't really white; they're hollow, so they won't freeze to death." She popped the fruit into her mouth and chewed, waiting for a break in the foreboding atmosphere that held the dining table captive.

Gan slurped a noodle; it disappeared into his mouth with a wet _smack_. Fai watched him with her lips pursed in disapproval at her husband's table manners. He snapped his chopsticks at his daughter, mimicking her chatter. "How is it that a nine-year-old girl knows so many words?"

Chai rolled her eyes. "I'm _ten_, Dad. I'm just gifted, I guess. Precocious, even."

Her mother chuckled indulgently. "You have such an imagination, Chai. Perhaps you'll become a great scholar someday."

Uncle choked on his mouthful of noodles at his wife's comment. "Dearest Fai, I'm afraid the royal scholars would go mad after an hour of 'intellectual' conversation with our daughter." He clicked his chopsticks at the would-be scholar once more. "You, young lady, are trouble."

It was an almost impalpable change, howbeit, just as those words were uttered the tension returned to the table. Fai placed a hand over her husband's. It seemed to be a cue, because he set his chopsticks aside. "Chai," he said, all traces of humor gone from his voice, "your mother and I have something to tell you."

Chai folded her knees up, tucking them under her chin so that her heels rested on the edge of her seat. She wrapped her arms around her stout legs. "What is it, Dad?"

Her parents exchanged significant glances for possibly the hundredth time that afternoon.

She regarded them with a longsuffering sigh. "If the two of you have telepathic superpowers, it better run in the family is all I'm saying."

Gan cleared his throat sheepishly before regaining his composure. "Okay, I'm not sure how to tell you this, so I'll just spit it out."

"Gross," she muttered, and then sobered when he shot her a stern look. "Sorry. Continue."

"Chai," he said, and then paused yet _again_. As previously stated, it was all very dramatic. "Your mother and I haven't been honest with you, which is something we regret. The truth we wish to tell you that we never told you but are going to tell you now is that…" Another pause.

Chai rolled her eyes.

"Fai is not your mother. And I am n—"

"Are you _serious?!_"

The expressions on the adults' faces were reminiscent of a pair of squirrel deer caught in a predator's sights. Petrified with fear.

"Dad."

"Yes?" the man who claimed not to be her father said.

Chai let her feet drop to the floor, and she leaned forward with her hands clasped on the table's wooden surface. "How many times do I have to tell you…your jokes just _aren't_ funny. I'm not even kidding. You're a prison warden for Sozin's sake! Bad jokes are not the recommended method for inspiring fear in the hearts of prisoners."

She continued as Fai and Gan looked on in incredulous silence. "Think about it—they'll probably plan a massive jail break just to avoid another round of your comedy routine, and then you'll be forced to scour the nation in order to retrieve every last one of them, like a common dogcatcher, which would mean sacrificing precious hours of sitting on your armored butt playing Pai Sho with the rookie guards,"—they really couldn't get in a word edgewise—"and then, without Pai Sho, how else do you plan on cheating the rookies into working overtime without pay; not the mention the significant amount of gold that'll go into funding an international manhunt, which will, of course, eventually cause the Boiling Rock to sink into bankruptcy, all of which will either result in nationwide budget cuts, which will plunge our nation into an economic crisis, or _worse_, get you fired! We'll be poor!

"You promised to buy me a dragon moose!" She stopped and wheezed for oxygen. Melodrama was a taxing endeavor.

Fai spoke first. "Chai dear…dragon moose are carriage animals. Wouldn't you perhaps prefer a mongoose dragon? They reportedly have quicker reflexes."

Chai squeezed her face between her palms in anguish. "Dragon moose. Are. _Adorable_," she declared, distraught that her mother was apparently unable to grasp this irrefutable fact. "And this is the Capital, not the Black Cliffs. We're not exactly living on the edge. What use are quicker reflexes on a mongoose dragon when city traffic moves slower than a snail sloth?"

"_Chai!_" Gan bellowed.

Both ten-year-old and mother paused mid-discussion and looked at him as though his presence had slipped their minds entirely. "Yeah, Dad?" the former said.

The prison warden scratched his head as his daughter regarded him expectantly. His fingers inadvertently tipped the two-pronged headpiece out of alignment; it sat crookedly on his head as he sighed deeply. "I'll buy you a dragon moose."

She nodded. "Good call, Dad."

A hush spread over the dinner table like a thick slice of soggy bread, which is expectedly an uncomfortably experience for all persons present. Both adults sat in their chairs, exhausted from their attempt to reveal the truth to the child that crouched across the table and unsure of how to proceed.

"Anyway, I already know."

Chai looked at them. They stared at her. It was rather comical.

She took it as encouragement to continue. "I don't know why you would lie about it. It's pretty weird, but I mean, you must have had your reasons. I'm grateful to you more than anything, Mom…if it's still okay to call you that."

"Grateful?" Fai repeated in disbelief.

She nodded, looking down at the fruit peels on the table. "I know Mom wasn't pregnant or whatever when you guys got married, and I'm old enough to know that babies aren't delivered via stork, but not old enough to know where they come from, so maybe it's actually bears? But I'm pretty sure you have to be pregnant first and that means you look like you swallowed a watermelon, which you weren't according to the servants at Auntie Lan's house. So, that can only mean that Dad watermelonized someone else before the two of you got married, but you decided to raise me anyway because you're, I don't know, the most awesome mom in the world or something. I personally would have killed Dad, but it's nice that you didn't." She stopped and glanced up at them. They were still staring. Somehow it was a lot less comical.

Gan's jaw had dropped open, but it snapped shut as the girl finished speaking. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. This went on for about a minute. Chai and even Fai watched in fascination.

"Ye-e-s," he said finally. "_Or_ you're adopted."

Chai blinked. "What?"

He sighed wearily, as if the burden of the secret had finally lifted from his chest…and perched onto hers. "You're adopted."

Her face contorted as she attempted to make sense of this revelation. "Are…are you guys cannibals?"

"Of course, not," Fai exclaimed. "Why on earth would you think that?"

"Because maybe you're fattening me up for slaughter, like the witch who tried to eat Hansel," she explained. "Or maybe I'm Gretel, and you're raising me in your cannibalistic ways. Oh my codpiece, was that really roast duck or were we just eating roast prisoner?"

"We're _not_ cannibals," Gan assured her firmly. "Hansel and Gretel. Are those Water Tribe names?"

Suspicion still lurked in the ten-year-old's features. "So, you just took me in out of the goodness of your heart?"

"She," Gan nodded at his wife, "took you in out of the goodness of _her_ heart. I reluctantly went along with it, but you turned out to be okay. I guess we can always cook you into a nice stew if your rebellious teenage years get too annoying for us to—_ow!_"

Fai withdrew her elbow from her husband's ribcage. "What your father is trying to tell you is that although we did not give birth to you, we love you as our own," she said.

"You don't know who my parents are?" Chai asked.

Her mother shook her head. "Unfortunately, we do not. It's uncertain if you are even a child of the Fire Nation, which is why we have had to keep your adoption secret," she explained.

She nodded numbly at the realization that she would probably never meet her biological parents were, if they were even still alive. "That makes sense," she mumbled. "So, you're still my mom and dad?"

"Absolutely," Fai said as Gan made a noncommittal noise beside her. Another jab to the ribs produced a pained "Yeah, kid."

This brightened her mood somewhat; at least, it was enough to make her pick up another leechi nut to eat. "I knew I'm too pretty to be related to Dad by blood," she remarked.

Her parents relaxed visibly, although concern lingered in their faces. Gan retrieved his chopsticks, which he clicked warningly at his adopted daughter. "Watch it, kid," he said, but there was no real threat in his words.

"We found you in a dragon moose feeding trough, wrapped in cabbage leaves, on the last day of our honeymoon," Fai blurted out. The relief of not losing the only daughter she had ever known apparently had the same effect as a truth serum. "Because your father neglected to remember the closing time for the carriage rides."

"Also, I know I told you that your name means 'scorpion,' but you're actually named after a drink," Gan added cheerfully. "Shu Jing was freaking tea vendor central. I bet if you cut one of the villagers, they'd bleed tea instead of normal red blood."

It was then that Chai came to realize that her life was a joke of cosmic proportions.

"Oy vey."

"Chai, stop speaking in languages that don't exist," Fai chided before scowling at her husband. "And I'll have you know that I protested this."

He held up his hands in a defensive gesture. "It's a great name! No one else in the Fire Nation has it."

"That is because it's the name of a beverage," she snapped.

He gave her a wounded look. "You agreed to it eventually."

She rolled her eyes. "We were _newlyweds_, dear. I didn't want to fight on our honeymoon."

Nostalgia drew a grin to his face. "It was a pretty fantastic honeymoon, wasn't it?"

Her expression softened. "It was perfect, dear," she said. "You made me feel like a princess."

"You're still my princess, Fai."

"And you are my strong, handsome knight. I love you more than all the riches in the world."

"I love you more than noodles."

"I would have preferred cannibals," Chai muttered.

Uncontrollable vomiting commenced in the distance.

/

Life resumed as usual. Despite Chai's claims of emotional trauma, her parents deemed her fit to attend school the next day. The second week at the Academy began with lessons in physical education, which was taught by a barrel-chested, tomato-faced cliff of a man.

"Well, if ye aren't the sorriest looking litter o' runts I ever seen. Ye'll refer to me as ma'am and nothing else!"

Or woman, apparently.

Chai slipped away at the first mention of push-ups and wind sprints. Physical activity was not her idea of real schooling. Not that she thought much of school to begin with. She brainstormed alibis as she crept around the grounds in search of a quiet nook. Maybe the library…

"I almost didn't recognize you without all the talking."

It took half a miracle and the fear of being overheard by an instructor on patrol to keep herself from shrieking. Instead, she dropped to the ground and lay there, flat against the earth in an attempt to camouflage herself. Yes, she could feel her skin and clothing turn gray even as she hugged the brick. Her eyes closed and she considered taking a nap. The shade was nice and the brick was cool against her face. She wouldn't get caught; she was one with the earth.

"Is it your mission in life to be as weird as possible?" Mai said, peering down at the prone girl from where she sat on the wide balustrade.

"Impossible," Chai muttered. "You can still see me?"

Mai rolled her eyes and leaned back against the column that obscured her from view of passersby. "Did you think you transformed into a pile of bricks?"

She sat up and scooted closer to the column in case anyone walked by. "Something like that. Ditching class are we, cousin?"

"Something like that."

They spent several minutes sitting in peaceable silence, neither worried that the other would rat them out for playing hooky. Here, in the shade, it was almost as if they sat outside the realm of consequences. Chai closed her eyes and dozed lightly as Mai balanced a needlelike blade on her finger.

"You know what I realized?" Chai said, as the other girl added a second needle to the next finger. Both needles stood perfectly still.

"That the world won't end if you stop talking for just ten minutes?"

"Nothing about my life makes sense. I've come to the conclusion that someone out there must have been incredibly bored."

A third needle joined the others. "Are you going somewhere with this?"

"I'm a cabbage patch kid."

"I'm not listening anymore."

"I'm adopted."

There was a pause. "I thought we went over this," Mai said. She held her left hand before her, palm facing up, with a silver needle balanced on each fingertip.

"I know," Chai replied, "but I was kind of hoping it wasn't true."

"Have you looked in a mirror?" the other girl said bluntly.

"As rarely as possible."

"Not my problem."

She craned her neck back to catch a glimpse of Mai's face, but only got as far as her knees. "My estranged relationship with mirrors or the fact that we're not real cousins?" she asked the knees.

"Both."

"Ah, well."

Mai uttered an exasperated noise. "Do you remember what you said to me when we got back from the palace?"

"That Ty Lee is the Matrix master?" Chai guessed. She took the girl's silence as a negative. "You mean when you said we weren't cousins?"

"What did _you_ say?"

She played back through the memory. "That it still feels like we are cousins—oh, _Mai_. You think of me as your cousin!" A grin bloomed on her face.

"I never said that," Mai said curtly.

"But you didn't _not_ say it," Chai exulted.

"Whatever. I can't help it if you're deluded."

She was grinning broadly now. The weight on her chest shifted. After all that had been revealed, nothing had really changed. She had always noticed the dissimilarities between herself and her guardians, but she now had the reassurance that she could go on living her life as usual. Gan and Fai were still her parents and Mai was her mean, gloomy cousin. Everything was as it should be. The worst part was over. It had to be.

"So, how's your boyfriend?" she said suddenly. "Is he still butt-hurt over the water balloon thing?"

"I'm holding a handful of needles above your head."

"Just asking."

"You, there!"

Both girls turned their heads at the deep voice that thundered through the hall. The physical education instructor loomed menacingly at the other end of the hall; the sight of the beastly adult had her scrambling to her feet. Mai flattened herself against the column, her clothing blending in with the painted wood, and with the advantage of the shade, she was virtually invisible. She cast a triumphant look at Chai as if to mock her own prior attempt at camouflaging herself on the bricks.

"You think I wouldn't notice one of you runts snuck off in the middle of class? Get over here and I might go easy on you, since you're a first time offender. I don't have all day, so get your rear in motion!"

Chai obliged. She broke into a run in the opposite direction. A series of heavy thuds notified her that the instructor was hot on her heels, shouting expletives that were probably not appropriate for use in an educational setting. The irony of running around school grounds in order to avoid participating in physical exercise was not lost on her. She would probably be caught sooner than later, and she had absolutely no plan of action for what would happen then. Her feet kicked up dust as she ran for her life.

It was just another day.

/

**A/N: Well, then. Glad that's over with. There's a small time jump coming up ahead, so you can look forward to that.**

**Thanks to sunflower13, Moon White Rose, and Rumpologist for the reviews. And to Rumpologist: Bear Zumba makes my thoughts sizzle, yo. I am so down for this party.  
**


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